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A Piece of the Action
It's bad enough when technical
squabbles percolate from the
bowels of the technology sector
into the mainstream press. But
when a mere war of words turns
urgent distinctions into more of
a tactical squabble, all the
wrong people usually win. These
days, those who can least afford
to lose are being splayed over
the increasingly banal brawl of
"Java vs. ActiveX." As early as
a year ago, the average observer
confronted with this dualism
might infer an obscure courtroom
battle between Juan Valdez and
the makers of adult
undergarments. These days, it's
threatening to mean much, much
less.
Feuding between Microsoft and
Netscape is nothing new, but at
some point, the sundry issues of
competitive corporate
positioning collapse into
fundamental questions of access:
users' access to software,
software's access to computers,
and companies' access to our
attention.
The untold story of Netscape's
ascent was their serpentine
throttling of distribution - of
content, plug-ins, software,
everything. It's a tale worth
telling, if only because the
looming success of Microsoft
threatens to mark an end to this
stillborn era. But the telling
begs a rewrite of the industry's
adolescent history...
Already the darling of Silicon
Valley after a few short months,
Netscape's browser had attracted
interest from Sun, Macromedia
and Adobe, all of whom promptly
announced deals with Netscape to
integrate their respective
technologies (Java, Acrobat, and
Director) into future versions
of the browser. And every
software start-up on the net
wanted in on the action, too.
The folly in the Valley stems
from these original deals. We'll
put forward this entirely
plausible scenario: Orchestrated
behind the scenes by John Doerr
of Kleiner Perkins, the deals
with Netscape were more about
building a "keiretsu" (which in
our Japanese dictionary
translates as "Old Boys' Club")
than about creating a new
marketplace for small-time
software developers. The deals
were easily inked and duly
submitted to PR Newswire, but
some of the partners -
Macromedia in particular - ran
into "execution" problems.
Namely, their code wouldn't be
ready for Netscape's 2.0
release.
The Netscape Plug-In API offered
a convenient solution: a
standard way for programmers to
hook their apps into the
browser. When Macromedia finally
released Shockwave, the code
could be plopped into the
browser at any time. Even
better, the Plug-In API would be
published, so all the other
developers could theoretically
whistle their ways towards
similarly auspicious goals.
Posting the specs on an obscure
part of their site, the boys at
Netscape considered the problem
solved.
And they were almost right.
Overnight, there were a hundred
plug-ins, with more on the way
all the time. One can imagine
Clark, Barksdale, Doerr,
marketing VP Mike Homer, and a
grinning, drooling Andreessen
around the boardroom in Mountain
View company. After an
appropriately dramatic pause,
the CEO intones:
Homer, who had a bit of
experience with marketing
operating systems at Apple, no
doubt outlines a strategy
straight from the pages of an
Apple business plan:
The roster of plug-ins listed on
Netscape's website grew, as did
the number of newspaper and
magazine articles proclaiming
that "the browser is the OS."
And if you asked any plug-in
developer how business is going,
you'd hear the same reply...
"Not much yet, but we're going to
get CNET to use our plug-in on
their website, and downloads
will go through the roof."
At the major websites, the lines
trailed around the corner for
plug-in pitchmen touting an end
to the limits of HTML or "even
better compression than
Shockwave." Most smart sites
sent them packing; the ones that
didn't soon found their customer
support desks flooded with email
and phone calls from perplexed
users, whose browsers presented
them with the cryptic error
message...
At Netscape, though, all was
going according to plan. Plug-in
developers were sorted into two
groups, the ones who got money
and the ones who gave it. To be
sure, revenues were going to
exceed expenses in this new
profit center. Played right, the
protection money paid by ISVs,
"independent" software
vendors, could dwarf the haul
from Netscape's search engine
payola scheme.
The concept had ingenious
simplicity:
Step 1 - Open the technology.
Step 2 - Close the distribution.
Step 3 - The tricky part:
Convince everyone that
distribution is more open than
ever, but only if Microsoft
would stay out of the way.
The plan worked so well that Sun
decided to use the same strategy
with Java. While Java applets
appeared to get around the
distribution scam, the real
action sprang from the APIs,
implemented in native code that
only Sun and Netscape can
distribute. Macromedia would
create the multimedia API for
Java, and Adobe would beef up
its graphics capabilities. You,
too, could enter the lottery for
the price of a Java license,
with the jackpot of having your
code built right into the
language - but most of the poor
saps who ponied up the cash
would turn up as ghosts in the
Java Virtual Machine.
Meanwhile, in Redmond...
Microsoft was finally coming to
its senses, seeing in the net a
crowded, raucous stadium, with
the teams already on the field
well into the game, and a
sold-out notice at the box
office. Of course, they owned
the place; they consulted their
sky-box seating for perspective.
The code boys drew up feature
sets, the top brass started to
look for holes in the business
models of the key players. It
didn't take long to discover the
Silicon Valley keiretsu's dirty
little secret...
The solution - eliminate the
distribution scam, and put all
the net software developers on a
level playing field. Easier done
than said! Microsoft had long
been promoting OLE (object
linking and embedding) as a way
to embed applications within
other applications, but being
able to stick a spreadsheet into
a word processor somehow lacked
the appeal of a chat window on
the Playboy page. Best of all,
for Microsoft, OLE ran on all
the platforms MS cares about:
Windows 3.1, 95, NT, and, oh
yeah, the Mac - sorta.
Presto change-o - OLE morphed
into ActiveX, a part of Internet
Explorer. As far as technology
goes, it was a major improvement
over the hacks Netscape peddles.
But then, Netscape has never
been known for its brilliant
R&D.
The real impact of ActiveX rests
in a feature called
AuthentiCode, which is a way for
developers to digitally "sign"
their ActiveX controls,
guaranteeing that they haven't
been tampered with. This allows
the browser to automatically
install the "trusted" ActiveX
controls as needed. Most users
saw it as a convenience feature,
just one of the many reasons why
they prefer Internet Explorer.
But when Netscape 3.0 is
introduced, it's the one feature
Netscape doesn't copy.
It didn't take long for plug-in
developers and content sites to
catch on to the benefits of
ActiveX controls vs. Netscape
plug-ins. Start-ups with
unlikely prospects, like
FutureWave, were suddenly on an
equal footing with Macromedia,
as website developers took the
plunge and started using ActiveX
controls on their web pages.
At Netscape, the dreams of tall
dollars from plug-ins began to
fade. But worse news was on the
way. Microsoft found a way of
merging ActiveX and Java,
allowing developers to build
ActiveX controls in Java, and
letting the "trusted" Java code
gain greater access to the
system and the ability to mix
native code with Java. While
developers puzzled over what
this means, and editors saw
their next year's worth of
"ActiveX vs. Java" cover
features angling toward
meaninglessness, Netscape and
Sun saw the writing on the wall.
In Microsoft's world, software
will play together without
licensing dollars changing hands
first. No plug-in bundling
deals, no auctioning off a place
in the Java API to Macromedia.
The Internet Old Boys' Club found
itself in big trouble, as the
web of deals weaving KP's
keiretsu together come apart.
The solution, while not
foolproof, exercised the home
turf advantage: a war of
disinformation.
"Microsoft wants to kill Netscape
plug-ins" was discarded as a
dud, and Netscape instead
settled on the "ActiveX is great
if you've got a PC" line, which
warms the hearts of the Mac and
Unix crowds, who aren't exactly
drowning in a flood of plug-ins
anyway. How about Java?
"Microsoft wants to kill Java"?
Sublime.
The "ActiveX vs. Java" meme still
gained momentum, disingenuity be
damned! Security is the favorite
rhetoric of Sun. "Native code is
inherently dangerous and
insecure," they said (the
corollary: only Sun and Netscape
can be trusted to put native
code on your machine). This got
the academics to stop looking
for security holes in Java, and
concentrate their efforts on
ActiveX. Meanwhile, the MIS boys
started beefing up their
firewalls.
In Redmond, Gates was beside
himself. A recent convert to
Java, the smear campaign was the
final straw.
So, once again, it's off to war.
But in web infowars, casualties
are more likely to play dead
than stay dead. The irony of
this theatre of combat is that a
company like Microsoft can be
bullied by circumstance into
doing the right thing and still
see their tactics blow up in
their face. With only the
tiniest hint of a smirk, they
release a Netscape Java plug-in,
10 times faster than Sun and
Netscape's implementation. They
hire away the Mac Java people
from Natural Intelligence's
Roaster group, and put them to
work on building a better Java
for the Mac.
But there's no such thing as
benevolence anymore - only
cheaper and more cynical
marketing ploys. Can the cool
buzz of satisfied users douse
the shrieks of quivering
netheads and panicky competitors
quick enough to calm the spectre
of a bespectacled Big Brother,
even one that brings good things
to life? The web's technology
underwriters will keep blasting
away until the question is
settled. And in an age where few
people care whether the clip is
half-full or half-empty, but
rather who owns the gun, it
might take a while to clear the
floor of spent shells.
[S U C K], 6 December 1996
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